


If You Could See My Thoughts You Would See Your Faces

by screaminghere



Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Intoxication, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screaminghere/pseuds/screaminghere
Summary: This is what the end feels like.





	If You Could See My Thoughts You Would See Your Faces

**Author's Note:**

> song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE005nZeF-A

This beginning, so similar to what the end feels like, so similar to that familiar ache of loss, yet so warm and dazing and wonderful and unreal, all feelings that have never accompanied his past sorrows yet all feelings that are terrifying in their own new, electrifying, paralyzing regard. 

Zach is terrified, has been terrified, but now he knows why, because the mouth against his is demanding, questioning, bold, scared. Eugene’s tongue brushes against his, vodka mixing with tequila, nerves mixing with calamity, water mixing with fire, hot steam everywhere, between them, surrounding them. It stings, the heat, it stings Zach’s face, makes his lips sing, his head spin. Bruises appear on his neck, on his jaw, on his shoulders, he relishes in each one and the fact that he’ll definitely regret them later, but later isn’t something he’ll think about right now. 

Eugene’s strong hands - never something Zach would think to describe them as, but that’s before he’d seen what they can do, what they’re about to do - hold Zach’s hips, press him back, against the bathroom door. A groan from Eugene reaches Zach’s ears and it has the sound of a bad idea, of a brilliantly stupid mistake; Zach feels his heart beat to the rhythm of the music outside, feels Eugene breathe to no rhythm, no reason or rhyme for each erratic inhale pressed against Zach’s lips, or collarbones. Eugene’s hands wander, Zach gasps, probably says a curse word or two but he’s not keeping track.

Cold skin covered in sweat shivers and rises to meet Zach’s touch, whose hands have decided that shirts are only a hindrance to their mission; to find out as much about Eugene as possible, before this is over, before the walls are rebuilt, before he wakes up from this absolute dream and has to deal with his consequences. Zach bites Eugene’s lip, draws a careless sound out of him, pulls their bodies closer together so he can feel Eugene against him if only once, if only now.

Body hair, always such a concern, such a point of comedy, a topic of conversation, never something that went unnoticed, now completely accepted, completely ignored by the fingers that impatiently unbutton his shirt and restlessly tug at his waist, only wanting to be closer, closer, closer, not repulsed, but enamored. It feels like being lifted into the sky, like a first kiss or hearing your favorite song on the radio. To cut to the point, it feels nice. It feels nice to not care, to not worry.

How many others? How many other women and men have been in Zach’s exact position? Zach doesn’t think that this could ever be recreated, no one could feel the way he does, could ever be so entranced and yet frightened, and still he know that there have been many others. He almost wants to ask, ask if anyone else held Eugene this close, got to hear desperation in his voice, was allowed to watch his eyes flicker with growing flames, because of course they have, because Eugene could have anyone he wants. At that, Zach’s brain gets a little stuck on the thought of; and he chose me, he chose me, out of anyone and everyone he chose me. 

Every touch sears, Zach is already falling apart and he knows it; he keeps it together so that he can reciprocate every caress, every push and pull. Eugene’s sounds, a mutter that almost sounds like Zach’s name, a sharp inhale that almost sounds like love, each one grabs at Zach’s heart, makes it beat a little faster or maybe a little slower, it’s getting hard to tell.

Eugene whispers ‘fuck’ against Zach’s mouth as he finally comes in Zach’s hands, Zach can’t decide if it sounds regretful, if it sounds like the end that he’s been so dreading, or if it sounds like want, the beginning that he so insanely needs. Whatever the tone, the meaning, it sounds like lust and it pushes Zach over the edge all the same, makes his mouth confess something that he shouldn’t confess, something that he’s known for so long and yet it’s only now coming into the light, ready for judgement and the followed persecution that Zach is sure will occur. 

“I love you.”

The only response is a rough kiss, frantic in the way that a person struggles to keep water from escaping out of their cupped palms, in the way that someone would climb a crumbling mountain, knowing that they’ll never reach the top, they’ll never get a strong enough grip to boost themselves up all the way, in the way that a cloud rains.

Then it’s gone, a cloud dissipates, Eugene leaves the bathroom door to swing shut with a deafening thud and Zach sinks to the floor. This is what the end feels like. How many others?


End file.
